Whatever words were spoken
Had been lost in translation.
Their meanings reduced to static,
Only the hiss of interference.
Sentiments mislaid, frozen in the ether
And to history bequeathed.
I ask for forgiveness,
Yet it is I that had been deceived.
Yet we no longer share a language
In which to negotiate recompense.
There are only misunderstandings left,
The result of this sign language.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.